Winter by David King

When the wind is whistling At the door and pane, I know that winter’s coming Down from mountains again. It sweeps with a lofty grandeur, A beauty that’s real, but cruel, And fills all you can look on In waves of drifting snow. The work of the fall is now over, The corn is laid […]

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From Responsibilities and Other Poems

by William Butler Yeats 1916 Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice, And thereupon imagination and heart were driven So wild that every casual thought of that and this Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season With the […]

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In Drear-nighted December by John Keats (1829)

In drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne’er remember Their green felicity: The north cannot undo them With a sleety whistle through them; Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime. In drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne’er remember Apollo’s summer look; But with a sweet forgetting, They […]

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To a Locomotive in Winter from Leaves of Grass

by Walt Whitman (first published in 1881-82 edition) Thee for my recitative, Thee in the driving storm even as now, the snow, the winter-day declining, Thee in thy panoply, thy measur’d dual throbbing and thy beat convulsive, Thy black cylindric body, golden brass and silvery steel, Thy ponderous side-bars, parallel and connecting rods, gyrating, shuttling […]

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311 by Emily Dickinson

It sifts from Leaden Sieves — It powders all the Wood. It fills with Alabaster Wool The Wrinkles of the Road — It makes an Even Face Of Mountain, and of Plain — Unbroken Forehead from the East Unto the East again — It reaches to the Fence — It wraps it Rail by Rail […]

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For Ruth Stone by Joseph MIllar

For Ruth Stone Sometimes you say bad things about people claiming it can’t be helped you crawl farther into the darkness just to see what it feels like but today you count the late frozen stars and Jupiter drifting into the dawn because Ruth the poet has passed away who listened to the muse alone: […]

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